


Closet Case

by zellieh



Category: due South
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crack, Crossdressing, Drag Queens, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Id Fic, M/M, Male Friendship, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Purple Prose, Timeline What Timeline, Tropes, Undercover, Undercover As Gay, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4959682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zellieh/pseuds/zellieh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser caught him, sliding an arm around Ray's waist, solid as a rock even in six-inch heels and a skin-tight blue lamé mini-dress. "I'm here, Ray. I'll always be here for you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closet Case

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Broadstairs Bacchanalia 'Purple Prose' challenge: to write a short ficlet as violetly as possible. I had the prompts 'due South' and 'Undercover As Gay', so this prose is not that purple. Because the RayK and Fraser in my head routinely undercut floridly romantic, overdone language in favour of banter and quips.
> 
> Canon is handwavey and timeline is vague, but this is broadly canon compliant for ~sometime~ in the middle of Fraser & RayK's time together in Chicago.

Staring into the closet mirror in his bare room in the Consulate, Fraser straightened Ray's brunette wig. "You look very beautiful, Ray."

Ray shook his head, shaking the wig loose again. "I look like my Great-Aunt Ethel-Mae, Fraser, do not lie to me." And really, it was unfair that he had to do this next to Fraser, who managed to make hooker's makeup and a short-short minidress look sexy as hell, despite producing charmingly demure blushes at the same time.

"We must do our duty at the Purple Pussy Club, Ray, unless you want the Fratelli triplets to escape justice again. Now let me help you put your false eyelashes on the way Frannie showed us, and step out of the closet."

"Do not talk to me about closets, Fraser!" Ray batted the fake-spider-things away from his eyes, pulled his skirt down and stomped out of the closet. "I do not look like a drag queen -- I look like a clown." Ray crossed his arms, bumped into his fake bosoms, and impatiently pushed one up under his chin and the other one into his left armpit so he could cross his arms and glare properly.

Fraser took a deep breath and put his hands on Ray's shoulders, staring Ray deep in the eyes. "You trust me with your life, Ray?"

"Of course," Ray said, un-hunching his shoulders but keeping his arms crossed mulishly.

"I've never lied to you, Ray--"

"Ha!" Ray interrupted, uncrossing his arms to point finger-guns in Fraser's face with both hands. "Ha!"

"--about anything as important as this case." Fraser rubbed his thumbs over Ray's collarbones. "Trust me," he said.

And really, that was just cheating, Ray thought, staring deeply into Fraser's true blue eyes. He sighed and sagged into Fraser's hands, nodding reluctantly -- but he still pulled back when Fraser tried to pull him out of the room, and not just because he couldn't take a single step in these killer stiletto heels, hunching his shoulders up again. "Frase--"

Fraser lifted Ray's chin, cupping his face in the palms of his hands. "Ray," he said, "Ray, you are beautiful. Your skin is like alabaster shining in the moonlight--"

Ray snorted, rolling his eyes meaningfully up at the flourescents on the ceiling and trying to pull back, but Fraser just followed him, cupping his fake bosoms and setting them level again. "You look like a goddess rising from the sea--"

"I look like my Great-Aunt Ethel-Mae in a turquoise sequined eighties nightmare monstrosity of a prom dress, Fraser!"

"I've never seen you look more beautiful, Ray," Fraser said, oozing sincerity from every pore; used car salesmen wished they had Fraser's ability to sell ice to the eskimos like this, because the thing was? When he looked like that, Ray even almost believed he could be beautiful. Handsome. Whatever.

"Ray," Fraser continued, curling his hand around the back of Ray's neck, "Ray, that green eyeliner really brings out the cerulean blue of your eyes--"

"Oh god," Ray muttered. "Frase, I have to ask -- have you been smoking your eskimo bark tea?"

"Inuit, Ray, and no." Fraser ran his hands down Ray's arms, grabbing his forearms. "I'm completely sober, Ray, and you are very beautiful. Now come out--"

"Ugh, fine! Stop talking!" Ray threw both arms up in the air in surrender, then overbalanced, yelped and grabbed Fraser's shoulders for support as one of his spangled red stilettos tilted under him.

Fraser caught him, sliding an arm around Ray's waist, solid as a rock even in six-inch heels and a skin-tight blue lamé mini-dress. "I'm here, Ray. I'll always be here for you."

"Two for one and one for all, huh, Ben?" Ray said.

"Always," Fraser said eyes shining with soul-deep honesty. "Now brace yourself -- the first step's steep in heels."

Ray shook his head, nodded at Fraser, straightened the neckline of his prom dress, yanked at the skirt down to try and get it to cover more of his thighs, then lifted his chin defiantly, and stepped out of the closet on Fraser's arm, earrings jangling.


End file.
